Category: Travel

Both Sides of the Island

Posted on by Pete Schloss

“…Women and children dying in the streets
And we’re still at it in our own place
Still trying to reach the future through the past
Still trying to carve tomorrow from a tombstone…

…Up here we sacrifice our children
To feed the worn-out dreams of yesterday
And teach them dying will lead us into glory…”

(From The Island, a song by Paul Brady)

In 2018, Christine and I were in Belfast, Northern Ireland. We had heard about the (unadvertised) “Black Taxi tours“. We were able to book one through the clerk at our small hotel.

Arranging for the tour felt a bit “cloak and dagger”. The cab driver would be first name only and no fee was quoted, “Pay at the end what you think it was worth”. Cash only.

At the arranged time, a taxicab (not black) pulled up to the front of the hotel. The driver was pleasant, extending his hand in greeting, and ushered us into the rear of the cab. He provided us with his first name, but no other details.

For the better part of the afternoon, he drove us to many of the locations and sites relevant to “The Troubles”, along with a knowledgeable running commentary.

His narrative was matter of fact and dispassionate. This was in stark contrast to the subject matter which included terrorist bombings, assassinations and judicially sanctioned executions.

Earlier in our trip: The spot at Kilmainham Gaol in Dublin where most of the leaders of the 1916 Easter Rebellion were executed by firing squad.

One of the efforts to whitewash the protest murals.

At the end of the tour we were emotionally drained. As I peeled off British Pound notes for payment he asked us, “Do you think that my loyalties rest with the Republic (of Ireland) or the Unionists (United Kingdom)?” Christine and I looked at each other and said that we didn’t know. “Then I have done my job.” He accepted our payment with gratitude and left.

Reflecting on the experience I am struck by the cab driver’s ability to express the facts of the cataclysm known as “The Troubles”, shorn of personal opinion and emotion.

I wonder if I could do the same for a foreign visitor in describing the current situation in our country.

Peace Everyone. Pete

PS. Upon further reflection I believe that on some issues I could follow the example of the cab driver. I believe that I could set out an even-handed narrative of the competing arguments regarding: Immigration, Border Security, Health Care, Wealth Distribution, Abortion, Education, the Federal Debt… to name a few. Not because I believe in the rightness of both sides, but because I have listened to both sides. Unlike the “Black Cab” driver, on some issues I feel morally bound not to allow an expression of neutrality be misunderstood as acceptance of that which I do not believe.

The images are of huge murals, a form of protest in Belfast.

Christine standing in front of the mural, “The Woman’s Quilt
“The Island” a song about “The Troubles” by Paul Brady

The Winds of Change

Posted on by Pete Schloss

 

Recently, Christine and I were travelling across Kansas on Interstate Highway 70. It is a mind-numbing drive that once had a recently arrived German exchange student remarking to me, “So, when does this Kansas end?”

Along the way I became aware of the forest of towering electric wind generators extending to the horizon in all directions.

A rare sight just a decade or two ago, now they extend for miles, slowly turning to the prevailing winds. I say “slowly”, but that is an illusion. The three blades on each turbine were spinning about 15 revolutions per minute. Given that these land-based towers are typically 260 feet high, and the blades 130 feet in length (for a total sweeping diameter of 260 feet), the blade tips are moving at approximately 140 miles per hour (224 kph)!

To appreciate the relative scale, that is our car and camping trailer to the left of the wind generator blade.

There was a time that these were a focus of the “culture wars” in the United States. Like so many “dog whistles” issues, media attention moves on and the susceptible population turns its attention elsewhere, forgetting the indignation that was once so directed. We are species with short attention spans.

Each tower generates approximately 1.5 megawatts, enough to power 150 average American homes. While the cost of fossil fuel generated electricity has remained constant, wind (and solar) generated electricity is now not only less expensive but becoming cheaper year-after-year as the economics and efficiencies of scale have their effect.

20 years ago, wind towers were a relatively rare sight in the United States. In 2000 they generated only 2.5 GW (gigawatts) of power. By 2020 US generation capacity grew to 113.4 GW and is projected to nearly double to 224 GW by 2030. Wind power eclipsed nuclear power for the first time in 2021, and coal powered generation in 2022. Coal generated power has declined 18% from 2023 to 2025 and is projected to continue this downward trend. It’s just a predictable function of economics.

At the beginning of the 20th Century automobiles were a curiosity with many believing that they could never replace the reliable horse and buggy. “They don’t start in the winter… Muddy roads are impassible to them… There are no places to buy fuel… They break down and are difficult to maintain… They are expensive…” All true in the earliest days of the automobile, but change was inevitable, just as it is in the marketplace of electric power generation.

Peace Everyone. Pete. Kansas City. February 26. 2025.

PS. The information obtained for this post came in part from US Government sources. A couple of additional interesting “tidbits”: Each wind generator has an average life expectancy of 20 years. The towers cause fewer avian deaths than fossil fuel fired powerplants, taking pollution into account.

Choosing Against Our Interests

Posted on by Pete Schloss

(I took the above picture during a 2018 protest in Santiago Chili. The government was using “non-lethal” bullets to suppress protests. However, the ammunition permanently blinded hundreds of people. This demonstration was led by very brave women.)

I’ve survived. The bunker door is mostly open now and peering out I see that life hasn’t really changed that much. I’ve tried watching the news again, but only local and in small bits. It will be a while before I again find Steven Colbert’s political commentary funny. My vote for President was among the 48.1% cast, not the “other” 50.1%.

First an acknowledgement that democracy works. Nearly 150 million Americans set aside their daily routines to make their voices heard. Second, gratitude to the thousands of nameless election workers that made voting possible.

The margin of victory was less than 3 million votes. That is approximately the population of Chicago. Once again, the Electoral College result, 312 to 226, discloses how disconnected this historic dinosaur is from the popular vote. I find further criticism with the length of United States political campaigns, the unconscionable amount of money spent on the campaigns, and the disproportionate influence given to wealth in selecting representation in this country. Those are perhaps subjects for posts at another time.

Another 2018 protest I was present for in Chili. This one focused on economic condition.

My self-imposed post-election introspection has given me an opportunity to seek understanding and peace with the outcome. During the weeks leading up to the election, Christine and I often found ourselves wondering, “How can they consider voting so contrary to their own interests!?!”

The answer is that I was applying my own understanding of what was important, not theirs. Perhaps their interests included elevating the voice of a contrarian. Shaking up a system that hasn’t worked for them. Expressing frustration with a government that to them favors “foreigners” over “Americans”. Declaring dissatisfaction with rising prices and tailing wages. And believing promises (real or not) that were addressed to them.

Just as I looked upon them in the pre-election weeks as being voters against their own interests, it occurs to me that in post-election America there may be 48.1 percent of the electorate now wishing against their own interests, just to say, “I told you so.”

100 percent of America should wish for a strong economy. An efficient and fair system of immigration. Price stability and wages that provide the possibility of upward mobility. Safe streets and safe schools. An efficient justice system that fairly punishes the guilty and quickly frees the innocent. Stability in the world order… All of this and more without regard for which candidate was successful in the election.

I have friends who count themselves among the 50.1%. When they voice complaints, criticisms, and worse about the 48.1%, I know that they are not thinking of me. I know that they would not apply those assertions to me personally. Conversely, as a friend I would never apply to them the complaints, criticisms, and worse often spoken about the 50.1% by those of the 48.1%.

Putting the face of a friend on “them” is one road to an understanding that “they” and “we” are often “us”.

Peace Everyone. Pete

PS. In 1995 we hosted 16-year-old Svetlana as a year-long exchange student from Slovakia. She remains in our hearts a daughter to us. In 1998 we arranged a reunion of our exchange students in Prague. Christine and I offered to pay the room and board of any of the students who could join us for the 5 days. What they did not know was that I had booked 3 large prison cells in the former Communist prison. $13 per person, per night, breakfast included!

Svetlana, along with her older brother Alex and 8 other students joined us. Her parents and little brother were there as was the mother of another of the students. They opted for more conventional (comfortable) lodgings.

In 2018 we enjoyed a wonderful visit with Svetla and her husband and children in Bratislava, Slovakia.

Yesterday, we spent a delightful afternoon here in Kansas City with Alex, his 12-year-old daughter Ellen, and his friend Dasha. Alex is an attorney practicing in Prague, the Czech Republic. He was also an exchange student in Kansas City, spending 1993 with the Harper family in North Kansas City. Alex came back for a visit to attend his host-brother’s wedding.

Earlier this year, our 1992 German exchange student son Andre and his family visited us.

They now reside in Washington DC where Andre is stationed at the German Embassy as an economist. We hope to have them join us next February in Colorado.

Later in 2025 we will be in Norway for a month. Our plans include traveling to Svalbard Island, the northernmost civilian settlement in the world, located about 650 miles from the North Pole. While in Oslo we will visit our Norwegian exchange student daughter (1994), Hege and her family.

Christine is fond of saying that a country is “foreign” until it has a face. These people and many others dear to us, are faces that have made the world smaller, more personal, and less foreign. We would do well within our country to do the same between the 48.1% and 50.1%

 

Home!

Posted on by Pete Schloss

 

Dear Friends and Followers.

On June 29th, after a grueling travel day, Britton and I landed in Kansas City and fell into the embraces of Christine, Renee’ and Britton’s siblings. It is quite possible that this one day was the highlight of Britton’s trip.

We flew First Class aboard Air France, as a Delta Airline partner, from Barcellona to Paris. Although seating was 3 seats on each side of the isle throughout the plane, in the small allocated “First-Class” section the center seats were left empty. We were afforded complimentary beverages, mine of the adult variety, and an excellent light meal. In these days of “enhanced security” it is a wonder that table service in First Class includes real metal utensils, including a knife. I guess that terrorists are relegated to Economy. The flight was unremarkable at just under 2 hours. The best was yet to come.

Our bags had been checked through to Minneapolis. So, except for the lingering uncertainty of another “rouge backpack” incident as was experienced at the start of our trip, we were unencumbered.

Non-European Union citizens were required to submit to passport verification, but otherwise proceeding to our next gate was seamless. With our First-Class tickets (one more time, yeah Christine!!) we qualified for entry into any one of the many exclusive Air France lounges which were located throughout the sprawling expanse of Charles De Gaulle Airport. Unfortunately, our layover was too short to take advantage of that perk.

The plane, this time operated by Delta, was being readied for the cross-Atlantic flight away from the terminals. We traveled by shuttle to the wide body plane’s remote location and boarded up a mobile stairway much as was done in the 1960’s and is still done for some dignitaries. Delta One customers (that was us) turned left upon entry, and the rest of the passengers, including “ordinary” First Class passengers went stage right.

Instead of seats, Delta One provides each passenger with a private “suite”.

There are real noise cancelling headphones, a comforter and pillow, slippers, a hand stitched (ours to keep) travel pouch containing toiletries and other small items to enhance comfort, a large screen (by airplane standards) television, and best of all a seat with power controls that adjust all the way from full upright to a fully extended bed. Our Airbus A330 had a total passenger capacity of 281. We were among the 29 who enjoyed the premium level of Delta One comfort and service. In surveying the other 27 passengers I wondered which might be celebrities, retired sports icons, or captains of industry. There were two that caught my eye, one with the eerily familiar face of a character actor and the other an older Black gentleman who was well over 6’6”.

As far as I was concerned, Michael was the real star of the flight. He was our personal assistant. Michael and his partner exclusively served the needs of the 29 Delta One passengers. He was polished in his manners and attentiveness much as one might expect the valet of royalty. “Another cocktail Sir?”… “Was the lamb prepared to your satisfaction?”… (I really ordered lamb)

Britton was in travel heaven! I remarked that he might not have a repeat of this travel experience for many, many years. “Yeah, like maybe never!” was his reply.

As special as all this was, we were still confined in a long metal tube along with 300+ passengers and crew, speeding across the Atlantic Ocean at over 500 miles per hour and nearly 8 miles over the surface of the Earth. If God had meant humans to fly… oh, never mind. I just wanted to get home to my wife and orthopedic physician, in that order.

The greeting at the airport was hurried but loving and welcome. Renee and her crew were heading to Florida in the morning by car. Within 24 hours Britton was transitioning from travel heaven to its equivalent in purgatory. He would have less than 8 hours of down time in over 48 hours of being “on the road”.  Poor guy!

My doctor’s appointment was accommodatingly scheduled for Monday. It went well. I now have appointments for an MRI, followed immediately by an epidural injection. These are the next steps in a conservative exploration of options. Additionally, I will be seeing my chiropractor and massage therapist this week.

In the next week I hope to put my thoughts and “pen” to work on writing a reflection of this extraordinary experience. I repeat, I am not disappointed with the outcome. Britton has repeatedly voiced his intention to return and finish what he and I started. He intends to include his mother and one or more siblings. They seem just as excited to be a part of his continuing pilgrimage as he is. In a Newtonian sense I have put Britton in motion, and an object in motion will remain in motion until otherwise acted upon. I can only hope that life does not interfere with his spirt of pilgrimage. That is out of my hands.

Love to you all. Peace. Pete

 

Denial and Acceptance. Burgos, Spain.

Posted on by Pete Schloss

Dear Christine, Renee’, Family, and Followers.

“ God grant me the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change…”

Some of you have sensed an undercurrent in my posts. Reading between the lines you have reached out to me to see if I am OK.

First of all, thank you for your concern. Secondly, I am not OK. I have done my best to put a publicly optimistic and positive spin on our experience. The brave front began crumbling more than a week ago. It collapsed about three days ago.

I reached out to Christine and Renee’ and told them that I could not go any further. The morning pain, leg spasms, and limitations on movement have become extreme. I have seen how it has become unsettling for Britton to see my struggle. One morning he voiced, “It’s getting worse isn’t it Grandpa. Are you going to have to have surgery?”

This is not just a matter of listening to my body, but also of being responsible for the care of my Grandson.

…”the courage to change the things I can…”

I have secured 1st class train tickets from Burgos to Barcelona. We depart Thursday afternoon for the 6 hour trip. We have a hotel room reserved at the airport. I was able to cancel our pre-arranged accommodations in Santiago and Barcelona without charge.

I was able to exchange out July 15th tickets to visit the Sagrada Familia for June 28th tickets. This despite the tickets originally being non-refundable and non-modifiable.

Christine was able to change our return flight from July to this weekend. Somehow she got us upgraded from Premium Select seats to 1st Class/Delta One. The seats make into beds. The upgrade cost… $35 for each of us. Christine is a magician.

…”and the Wisdom to know the difference.”

It has been said that with age comes wisdom. Perhaps. In my case with age comes a well used and occasionally abused spine. That is the price of a life well lived.

Pilgrimage in general and the Camino in particular is first and foremost a journey, not just a destination.

Britton and I have shared a remarkable time together, almost a month in France and Spain.

I have witnessed him rapidly grow into full partnership with me on the Camino. He and I have covered nearly 300km together. Most exciting for me is to hear him voice his desire and intention to return and complete the journey, perhaps with his Mother and one or more siblings. He has become a real Peregrino, a 15 year old Camino zealot.

I am at peace with my decision and I have no regrets. Everything that is truly important has been achieved. The seeds of pilgrimage have been planted. How they grow, how they mature, and what fruit is finally harvested are matters that were never in my hands.

Love to all of you. Peace. Pete.